


Hobbitnation

by 1FrozenRutabaga



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Family, Fluff, Gandalf Likes to Keep Secrets, Gandalf is a Troll, Gandalf knew Bilbo wouldn't say anything, Hints of Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panicking Company, hibernation, hobbits hibernate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1FrozenRutabaga/pseuds/1FrozenRutabaga
Summary: Winter is approaching a year after the battle, but something’s amiss with a certain hobbit. Bilbo’s been yawning constantly, storing berries away in his pocket, and…wearing socks?! Just what is happening to their hobbit? Can Gandalf shed some light on things without being a troll? Can the Company not panic? No to both questions.





	1. A Sleepy Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time posting on AO3, so I thought I'd start out with some classic hobbit stuff. This is one of my older fics and I tried tweaking it as best I could without completely deleting it. Hopefully you like it!

“You alright there, lad?” Dori raised a brow. He was sitting across from the hobbit, most of the chairs empty at the long table since others had either taken their dinner to their rooms or hadn’t eaten yet.

Bilbo just nodded sleepily again, like every other time someone had asked him that question. “Yes,” he murmured.

Again, no one believed him.

The hobbit stood. His plate was empty, like it usually was, but everyone once again saw him slip some blueberries into his jacket pocket, which he had been wearing constantly. It was quite warm inside the castle, yet Bilbo was wearing it everywhere and burrowing into it like he was freezing.

“Off to bed already?” Balin asked. Nori glanced over.

Bilbo nodded. Something akin to an amused smile had settled on his face as he pushed in his chair and walked away. “Of course. I have to –.” A yawn interrupted him before he covered his mouth. “Get ready.”

That was the same answer they got every time they asked.

About two weeks ago, Bilbo’s behavior had suddenly shifted. He became much quieter, much more subdued in nearly everything. At first, everyone thought it was because the anniversary of the Battle, the day in which Erebor nearly lost its successors and the weeks of playing catch with death afterwards. Even Thorin had been quiet on that day. After the day passed, Bilbo remained in his quiet state. He seemed to be in a place between reality and his head, smiling all the time and drifting in and out of conversation.

Fili and Kili had struck up less than savory chats with him, trying to get Bilbo to show some of his old self by making him embarrassed, but the hobbit merely chuckled, patted their heads, and walked away saying, “silly boys.” Not even Thorin could get him riled up, no matter how loud he spoke just to annoy him. Oin snagged him for checkups. Aside from the sleepiness and his skin color, which had paled a bit since he did live in a mountain now, Bilbo was perfectly healthy. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, at least not from what Oin could see. No sicknesses, no increased heartrate; nothing.

The behavior was physical as well. Bilbo would slip berries into his jacket pocket, saying that he would get hungry later. He wore long sleeves constantly beneath his jacket, but he never felt cold. Then, by Smaug’s tail, he was wearing socks! Thick ones as well, nothing thin enough where he could feel the ground beneath his feet.

And every time they asked, “Bilbo, what are you doing?”

It was the same answer. “Preparing,” he would say in an almost yawn.

Bilbo wouldn’t elaborate, and that made it all the more worrying. Preparing for what? Most of the company guessed for travel, but Bilbo had promised he’d stay in Erebor, finalizing the statement by sending a raven with the message that he was alive and going to collect some belongings before passing on Bag End to his cousin Drogo instead of Lobelia, which was “that snake” according to Bilbo after finding out that she had moved in during his absence. They all knew he wouldn’t lie about that, but sometimes it tickled the back of their minds when they saw him staring into the distance. Thorin was already planning on importing plants for a garden when spring came. It was an obvious necessity.

The other thought was, one that made them all absolutely terrified, was death. Was Bilbo preparing to die? He didn’t get to touch the sunlight much anymore, it was cold, the environment had changed significantly for him, and he had been dealing with stressful politics. Was it all too much on the hobbit? Was Oin missing something, some kind of sign? Bilbo’s pulse was steady, his immune system strong; what was it?

There were times when he suddenly disappeared. The company would frantically search for him, only to find him seated in his room, which was one of the first things checked, or at the dinner table. The hobbit never seemed to understand the heart attack he gave the dwarves, simply murmuring a sorry with a sweet smile before either falling asleep or eating. They never could understand just where Bilbo was running off to.

“Well, goodnight, Bilbo,” Balin said.

Bilbo nodded with a smile. “I’ll see you all soon,” he responded softly as he walked away.

The moment he left, everyone looked at each other. “What does that mean?” Nori said.

“I don’t like the sound of it,” Dori admitted. “But perhaps it will come as an answer to what we’ve been wondering.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t help quell the dread they felt.

\- - - - -

“Mister Boggins!” Kili shouted, his voice echoing down the hall.

Fili looked around when there was no response. “He’s not even responding to that.”

The brunette wilted. “He always comes out to scold me when I call him that.”

Bilbo hadn’t been at breakfast this morning. The hobbit had slowly adjusted to three, though enlarged, meals. When it neared lunch, everyone had stated they hadn’t seen Bilbo. His room had been empty upon checking, and now guards and the company were searching the halls.

Fili frowned. “Where could he have gone?”

"Maybe he used that weird magic trick,” Kili suggested.

“Maybe.”

But why?

The boys headed down to the library, where they were intended to search. Everyone else ganged up on Bilbo’s other hiding spots.

“Has uncle considered that Bilbo might have a secret lover?” Fili suddenly said, his eyes curious.

Kili shook his head. “Nope. There’d be signs of that, I’m sure.”

The blond glared at his brother. “Are you trying to get found out?”

The other snickered, though there was pink in his cheeks.

The library was enormous, the brothers knew, but looking at it now sent dread through their young hearts. If Bilbo really was in here, then they’d have to search every nook and cranny for him. The hobbit tended to wedge himself into the silliest places when he found a book too good to take back to his room. With just the two of them, it would take hours, and Thorin had wanted them back to take place in another meeting with the Men.

“I’m reconsidering my friendship with Bilbo,” Fili said.

“I’m reconsidering my enthusiasm,” Kili responded.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to search very far. They had wandered to a sitting area that Bilbo frequently nestled in. It was his favorite spot there, he had told them, mostly because it had a curved in area with cream curtains that could cage it for privacy. Unbeknownst to him, Thorin had made sure that the library had been first on the list of areas in the castle to repair. Bilbo had gravitated towards the spot with glee, and was commonly found asleep with a book and a dim candle on the little table inside.

“Mister Boggins!” Kili crowed as they neared the hotspot. “We know you’re there!”

“Well, not actually,” Fili chimed in. “But you better be because uncle will kill us for not finding you.”

“Even though he should be searching himself,” the other said, reaching for the curtain. “You need to knock some sense into him.”

Fili had just noticed that the table had been moved by the armchair by the shelf as his brother pulled the curtain aside.

Bilbo was lying on the floor, curled in a lengthy fur blanket that swirled around him. The hobbit’s eyes were closed, his body curled beneath the blanket and his hair mussy. A jar of berries was tucked in the corner of the chair by a small bowl of water.

The boys grinned in delight and mischief. Kili dropped into a crouch by the halfling, shaking him gently. “Bilbo~,” he sang. “Wake up, Mr. Boggins, before we tell uncle.”

The hobbit lolled slightly at the movements, his body limp. He didn’t twitch or mumble at Kili’s voice.

The brothers felt themselves falter. Fili moved closer, leaning over his brother. “Bilbo?” he called.

Nothing.

“Fili,” Kili swallowed nervously, shaking the smaller a bit more vigorously. “Something’s wrong.” His light amber eyes were alight with worry as he continued to shake Bilbo. “Bilbo? Bilbo?!”

Bilbo’s body was like a doll as it was shaken. The blanket moved beneath the frantic hand, rubbing against the pale cheek and flush fingers.

“Get Oin,” Kili choked.

Fili obeyed his younger brother, scrambling from the library and down the hall. “Oin!” he shouted as loud as he could. “Oin, help!”

He hadn’t made it to the end of the hall before Oin, Dori, and Ori were skidding around the corner. The three had heard the frantic shouts as they had finished their search of the spare rooms.

“What is it, Fili?” Dori demanded. “What’s happening?”

The blond nearly stumbled over his feet when he stopped himself. “It’s Bilbo,” he said, his sunny brown eyes dark with fear. “He won’t wake up.”

The four stormed back down the hallway, bursting through the half-open doors and weaving the short way to Bilbo’s resting place. Kili was still shaking the hobbit, tears in his eyes when the other continued to limply follow the movements.

“Move!” Oin barked. Fili had to grab and yank Kili out of the way since the healer didn’t wait. The old dwarf knelt by the hobbit, his one hand going for a pulse and the other rolling the smaller onto his back.

A beat of silence.

“What is it?” Ori whispered. His bread brown eyes were colored with fear.

Oin didn’t answer for a moment. He got out his ear horn and pressed it against the hobbit’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. His finger remained on the pulse in Bilbo’s neck; slow, but rhythmic. Removing his horn, he moved his hands to Bilbo’s face, opening an eye to see the glazed, grassy iris. He let the lid close, moving to the mouth. He held Bilbo’s chin open with one hand, another hovering over the hobbit’s mouth, feeling the warm breath.

“What’s wrong with him, Oin?” Dori asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his own heart sinking. “He’s cold.” He looked at the other dwarves, his stormy brown eyes firm. “Someone pick him up. We need to get him on something other than the floor.”

Fili shrugged off his coat as Kili knelt to pick up Bilbo. The brunet lifted Bilbo carefully, his older brother tucking the fur coat on the blanket for extra warmth. Kili stood, holding Bilbo close to his chest. From the excess fur, the socked feet hung limply. They rushed from the library, Kili careful not to jostle the ill creature too much.

“Get the rest of the company,” Dori said, looking at Ori. “Tell them to get to Bilbo’s chambers immediately.”

\- - - - -

Thorin and the rest of the dwarves practically flooded into Bilbo’s room, panicked and desperate for an explanation. Bilbo was laid on his bed, stripped to his trousers, Oin moving quickly as Fili and Kili stood worriedly.

“What happened?” Thorin stormed forward, his icy eyes on the unconscious hobbit. He had practically bolted from a meeting when Ori ran in yelling that Bilbo was unconscious. The others began to clutter around the bed.

“The answer’s the same,” Oin replied gravely. “I have no idea what’s wrong with him.”

“What’s his condition?” Gloin asked. He had left his wife in a state of confusion after hollering that his friend was ill.

Oin sighed. “He’s in some sort of comatose state. I’ve checked every part of him and I’ve found nothing but old scars.”

“Whatever it is, he knew it was coming!” Nori piped up, fear breaking through the frustration.

“He was preparing for this,” Bombur said, the realization slamming into him. Bifur grunted in agreement, though he shuffled closer to the bed.

Bofur had placed his hand on the cool skin of the hobbit’s arm, his chocolate eyes aflame with desperation. “What do we do?”

Thorin looked around. They were huddled around the bed now, but giving Oin enough space to work. He turned back to Bilbo, who hadn’t moved a single centimeter.

“Send for the wizard,” Thorin said. “He must know what this is.” He looked at everyone. "Send every raven you can find!" he ordered.

\- - - - -

“Ill, you say?” Gandalf raised an intrigued brow.

“Yes!” Nori shouted, exasperated like the rest of the company in the throne room. “That’s what the messages said, blasted wizard!”

After sending a hasty letter to Gandalf by raven, over a dozen if the feathers littering the pale hat said anything, the wizard had appeared within the week, quickly being escorted to the mountain once arriving in Dale. He hadn’t even had a moment to take in the flourishing kingdom before being hounded by the company, though it was amusing to see them so worked up over a once previously “useless” companion.

“And this illness contains what exactly?”

Dori opened his mouth the shout again since everything had been written in the letter. Oin swiftly stepped in. “He has a slow pulse and he’s comatose,” he said, staying calm despite the situation. “Nothing we do can wake him up.”

The pale eyes widened a tad. He reached up and stroked his beard. “Nothing at all? Are you positive?”

“For Mahal’s sake!” Thorin finally howled. “Yes to all your questions! Now tell us what’s wrong with him!”

Gandalf then strolled across the room, humming softly.

“Where are ye goin’?!” Bofur exclaimed. Not even he could keep his head anymore.

“All my questions were answered with a yes,” Gandalf said simply. “So I’m going to see Bilbo just as I would have asked.”

Everyone burned holes into the wizard’s back, though there were smaller ones directed at Thorin as they followed behind.

Moments later, Gandalf was observing the still unmoving hobbit. Bilbo had been dressed in long sleeves and covered with thick furs. The taller being leaned down and patted the honey curls, chuckling softly.

“What the hell are you laughing about?!” Kili barked, unable to contain himself. Fili had to bit his own tongue from doing the same.

Bifur grumbled loudly in Khuzdul, his stormy eyes threatening.

Gandalf turned, unminding of the angry glares. “Bilbo is not ill at all,” he chirped, his face a bit smug.

Everyone gaped. “What?” Thorin blurted.

Oin eyed him suspiciously. “That cannot be. He’s–.”

“Hibernating.”

Silence.

“...Hibernating?” Ori echoed quietly.

Gandalf began to pace slowly. “Hobbits are very odd creatures. One of these oddities is that they are very in tune with nature. As such, they follow the natural cycle of most greenery, and fall into a slumber during the winter to awaken with the blooms of a new year.”

Kili scratched his cheek. “So, Bilbo’s like a bear?”

The wizard chuckled at that. “Essentially so.” He looked back at the hobbit. “He will awaken in intervals to nurture himself, but only for a short period of time. He may not be completely coherent, but I believe Bilbo will try his best to communicate.”

“But he didn’ do this last year,” Bofur said, confused.

“Indeed he didn’t,” Gandalf agreed. “A hobbit's hibernation can be delayed by great stress. In Bilbo’s case, it was completely curbed. I can assume you all know why.”

A flash of guilt crossed their faces, staining Thorin’s. Yes, they all certainly did.

“But he will wake?” Oin asked.

The wizard nodded. “Yes. When spring arrives, Bilbo will awaken completely and return to normal.”

A breath of relief escaped everyone. So Bilbo hadn’t been dying or ill, just preparing for his annual hibernation. It was quick to puzzle that Bilbo just hadn’t felt the need to elaborate on what he was preparing for. He had possibly assumed that the dwarves would know more about hobbits by now, and they should have.

“Is there an exact date we should be looking for?” Gloin asked.

Gandalf gave a shrug. “As the human term goes: beats me.”

\- - - - -

It was a little close to a month when Bilbo woke up.

After Gandalf left, the dwarves instantly began to formulate a plan. They quickly set up a chart for when someone would come in the guard the hobbit, something now especially needed since Bilbo couldn’t defend himself. Balin suggested that it just be them, that too many guards would lift some eyebrows. No one questioned it, and everyone seemed actually eager to defend their hobbit. A few guards that had been handpicked would be outside Bilbo’s rooms at all times even if someone was taking their turn.

Oin had been on guard when the hobbit rose from his bed, glassy-eyed and with a terror of bedhead.

“Bilbo!” Oin exclaimed, nearly dropping his book. The bleary eyes looked at him, confusion beneath the sleepiness. The blankets were still tucked around his shoulders. The dwarf quickly stood from the fireplace and made his way over. “Be still for a moment!”

Bilbo rubbed his eyes. He remained still when the healer checked his pulse and such, though he swayed slightly and his neck bent downwards as he nodded on and off. Oin studied to hobbit’s eyes to find them glassy, but healthy, and making sure his heart and breath were in sync.

Gandalf, by Mahal’s grace, had been right after all.

“How do you feel, lad?” Oin asked when he finished, horn at the ready.

The halfling smiled wistfully. “Tired,” he murmured. “Hungry.”

“I’ll send for someone to bring you something.”

Bilbo shook his head, already uncovering his legs. “I need to stretch,” he said softly. “Cramped.”

That made sense. Oin offered his hand, which Bilbo took gratefully. The dwarf led him from the room towards the dining room, though he looked for the others nearby on their way there. The guards outside of the room were relinquished for the moment with a small flick of Oin's hand.

They didn’t have to look far once Ori and Nori came around the corner.

“Bilbo!” Ori squealed happily. He ran over and threw his arms around the hobbit, squeezing tightly. Bilbo squeaked. “You’re awake!”

“Only for a short period,” Oin said, slightly scolding the young dwarf. “He’s hungry.”

“Being out for nearly a month would do that,” Nori snorted.

The others reacted nearly the same as Ori. Nearly all of the company had been in the main dining room, and everyone had leapt from their seats and even onto the table to rush over, babbling that Bilbo was awake and that “the damn wizard was right after all.”

Bomber made sure the hobbit got plenty of food, which was actually very small. Gandalf had said that Bilbo’s stomach would adjust to small portions during hibernation, meaning his regular meals would make him ill enough to vomit. Ori had scrambled to contact Thorin, and minutes after Bilbo sat down the king and his nephews came in, flanked by Dwalin.

“Bilbo!” Kili cried. He was sprinting across the room with Fili. “You’re up!”

The hobbit stood from his chair. “Yes,” he said tiredly. “I’m certainly–.”

Bilbo let out a small sound after being practically tackled by the two young dwarves. They held him in a tight, squeezing hug, their faces tucked into his curls or his shoulder.

It didn’t take long to recover from the blow. “Oh, you silly boys,” Bilbo smiled dreamily as he patted the brothers’ backs comfortingly. “Nothing to be worked up about.”

Kili pulled back slightly, his dark eyes that of a puppy’s. “We thought you were sick.”

“You were so cold,” Fili said, his features grim. “You scared us so much.”

Bilbo gave a small, playful chuckle. “Well there’s no need to be scared now. I’m quite alright. Now sit down and eat your food, or I’ll eat it. I’m certainly hungry enough.”

When everyone was settled into a chair with their plates, Ori asked, “Why did you pick that spot if it was so cold?”

“I didn’t,” Bilbo said, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. “I wanted to try and read one more book before I went to sleep, but I didn’t even get halfway. My book pile was low, so I got on the ground to go through it. I just…fell asleep there.”

Everyone blinked. Not even a second later everyone was laughing; hard, bellyaching laughter. Fili and Kili leaned over in their chairs and brought the hobbit in for another hug, their shoulders shaking with giggles.

Gloin wiped away a tear. “That’s our burglar!”

“Stayin’ up past your hibernating date to read a book!” Dori laughed. “Now that’s determination!”

Bifur was practically wheezing, pounding his fist on the table with enough power to make his plate bounce.

Gandalf had been right about Bilbo struggling to communicate. He would trail off mid-sentence or doze. It was a bit of a struggle to get him to focus on eating, especially with worried dwarves at every angle. The hobbit seemed barely conscious enough to eat, though he managed to finish the plate. The moment Dori took it, Bilbo let out a small yawn.

“Ready ta clock back out?” Bofur asked, smitten by the cute yawn.

Bilbo nodded. “Absolutely.”

The hobbit was surprised when the entire company decided to escort him back to his chambers. He had barely even gotten out a protest before Kili and Fili took turns hugging and squeezing him in “goodnight hugs” the whole way there. The fireplace in his room had been lit, which had probably been done by a guard. Oin sat him on the bed and checked him over again, the others waiting patiently.

“I believe you’re fine enough to return to your cycle without a hitch,” Oin said. He patted Bilbo’s knee. “We’ll have some water for you next time you wake.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said sleepily. He rubbed his eyes. “Again, sorry I scared you all. I didn’t mean it; truly.”

Bifur rumbled something in Khuzdul. It sounded like a small scolding from his tone. Bofur patted his cousin’s shoulder. “We know ye didn’ mean it, Bilbo.” He smiled at Bilbo.

“When this is over, you better tell us everything you hobbits do,” Dwalin grumbled.

The hobbit yawned. “Of course.”

“Alright, alright, he’s had enough chitchat.” Oin laid him down carefully. “He needs to get back to his cycle.”

Kili and Fili bounced over, the blond grabbing the covers to draw up and the brunet leaning down for a small hug, which was returned with the same gentleness. “Afternoon, Bilbo!” Kili chirped.

Bilbo chuckled. “Afternoon, Kili.” He hummed when Fili brought the furs up to his neck, his eyelids fluttering shut as his arm slid from Kili’s neck. “Afternoon…”

Thorin spoke up. “It won’t be too long until–?”

He stopped after seeing the hobbit’s chest rising evening.

“Out like a candle,” Gloin huffed amusedly.

Dwalin rolled his eyes at the slightly offended face Thorin had. “Shouldn’t be too long for him,” he answered for Bilbo.

Bifur muttered something under his breath and chuckled. It must have been mocking, because Thorin threw him a small glare.


	2. A Home for a Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Bofur learns some more about Bilbo, the company rejoices as their hobbit returns to normal, and Thorin says "maybe" a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter you read was something I wrote months ago when I was still getting into the hobbit fandom. This chapter is completely new and all written today. Sorry if everyone seems a little OOC, I don't write hobbit fics much, but I hope you enjoy!

As the weeks passed, the snow steadily pilled around Erebor. Wagons of supplies were slowed and the number of travelers dwindled. The dwarves didn’t seem to mind as much, their stocky bodies already thick and covered in furs. Children in Dale played in the snow outside their homes and threw snowballs at merchants. Dwarves laughed at Men slipping on ice.

Despite the problems the snow brought, Bofur thought it was beautiful. He had mentally tacked an image of his next carving based on the snowy mountain after he briefly slipped outside earlier that morning. Yet as much as he thought the snow was beautiful, he liked sitting by a nice fire and carving something small. Usually he’d be surrounded by music and loud, booming chatter, but his only company was a sleeping Bilbo, the sound of his knife against the wood, and the crackling of the fire.

He had settled on carving a little pony. Bilbo’s pony, to be exact. Myrtle had been a fine pony, one that Bilbo had obviously loved. Long after they had lost the first batch of horses, Bilbo had murmured to Bofur that he had fed her an apple the night they were attacked. Heartbreak had been written all over Bilbo’s face, and Bofur had seen sorrow seep through the cracks when he asked the dwarf what he thought of Myrtle’s fate. Bofur had gently said that he didn’t know, but that if she was gone, then she’d be prancing in a field of grass and apples to her heart’s content. He hadn’t pointed out the tears in those hazel eyes.

Usually he’d carve a small draft before going on to create the final project, but he had a feeling that Bilbo would keep the little wooden version of her. Bilbo had expressed interest in woodcarving, and Bofur had told him that the door was open if he ever wanted to learn.

The base sounds were interrupted. Bofur’s knife slowed to a halt. Over the fire, he could hear the rustling of fabric. He turned his head to Bilbo’s bed to see the hobbit curled into a tight ball. His face was scrunched tightly and his breaths were coming in tight bursts.

Bofur set down his carving and made his way over with a frown. He settled by the hobbit’s side, sitting on the bed and reaching to shake Bilbo’s shoulder. “Bilbo,” he called quietly.

Bilbo’s face only grew more distressed. A small whimper escaped his lips.

Bilbo was known to dream, that they had witnessed, but never a nightmare that reached so far into reality. They popped up every now and then, settled with a gentle touch or someone humming a song, but Bilbo had never done this. It reminded Bofur of their time on the road, the nights where Bilbo would wake up every few hours with a stiff body and frightened eyes.

“Bilbo,” Bofur called again, a little louder this time. “Wake up, lad.”

“Mngh…” The small nails dug into the blanket. “N…No. S’ay away…”

The trolls, perhaps? Maybe the spiders? “Bilbo, it’s just a dream,” Bofur said. “Nothin’s gonna get ya here.”

It went on for a minute or so, Bilbo’s distress growing instead of dying and Bofur increasing his efforts with each whimper. It was awful seeing Bilbo like this. Of all the people to be plagued with nightmares, the one no one wished those memories upon was Bilbo. The same nightmares that kept Bofur from leaving his carvings were the same ones that had Bilbo thrashing in the sheets.

He shot up with a scream. “Wolves!” Bilbo screamed.

Bofur let out a yelp when Bilbo tried to take a dive off the bed. He grabbed the smaller and yanked him back, keeping a tight grip when the hobbit attempted to wriggle out of his grip. Bofur was forced to roll. He pinned Bilbo down, his arms wrapped around the plump body tightly. “Bilbo!”

His eyes were blind with panic. “Wolves, there’s wolves!”

“Relax there, Bilbo!” Bofur exclaimed, struggling to keep Bilbo from bolting off the bed. Even restrained like this wasn’t breaking him out of it. “There’s no wolves!”

“They’re here!” the soft voice cracked desperately. “They’re here, they’re going to get in.” He was panting in short, heavy breaths. “We have to hide.”

“There’s no wolves, Bilbo,” Bofur repeated, his voice firm but light. “Ye’re in Erebor. Wolves can’t get in here if they tried.”

Bilbo mumbled something, but Bofur couldn’t make it out. He was absolutely terrified. The only time Bofur could think of wolves was from their journey. He didn’t think about it too much, the memory buried by the trolls and the spiders, but wargs were certainly terrifying enough to a little hobbit who had never seen one before. Sometimes it came back to Bofur, their night spent in the trees wondering if a branch would break as they struggled to think of a plan.

“I’m gonna let ye up,” the dwarf said slowly. “Don’t run out on me, alright?”

It was like picking up a baby bird. Bofur was careful with sitting Bilbo up, the hobbit now still with trembles instead of his thrashing. He took a moment to look at his friend; disheveled caramel curls, hazel eyes bright with confusion and panic, shaking hands. Meeting wargs for the first time would certainly invoke terror in anybody, especially someone who had never left home before.

A quick blink. Then more in succession. “Bofur?” Bilbo called softly, like he was afraid of being wrong.

“Right here.” Bofur gave a small disarming smile. “Back with me?”

“I… I think so.” A quivering hand rose and tangled in the thick curls. “Oh dear, I’ve embarrassed myself, haven’t I?”

“Embarrassed? Not at all!” The toymaker put a steady hand on the small shoulder. “Bilbo, ye really scared me there. The last thing on my mind would be that it was embarrassin’.”

“Oh.” Bilbo gave a nervous smile, looking away. “That’s good.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Then, “Ye said somethin’ about wolves?” Bofur asked. It was blunt, but there wasn’t any need for sugarcoating the question.

The plump lips were wrung beneath teeth. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose I did.”

Bofur scratched his cheek. “Listen, I remember how bad those wargs were,” he said. “It’s nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

“It wasn’t them,” Bilbo told him. He looked a bit calmer, but still shaken. “I was dreaming about Fell Winter.”

Bofur tilted his head, his hat bobbing with the motion. “Fell Winter?” It sounded familiar.

The hobbit shuffled where he sat, like a bird getting comfortable in its nest, but he didn’t settle. He slid off the bed and padded over to the fireplace. Bofur followed, his boots tapping gently across the floor. He took his previous seat, Bilbo having settled into the other.

“Yes,” Bilbo said, answering the question. “Fell Winter was the worst winter The Shire ever experienced.” The tired hazels drifted to the fire. “The rivers froze and wolves from the forest used them as bridges to get in. They were starving just like we were. Orcs crossed as well.”

Bofur felt something cold stick in his heart. He couldn’t imagine it, starving, snarling wolves and orcs invading that peaceful little area with the intent to kill and eat. The thought of those little holes being broken into by orcs lusting for blood, the thought of defenseless, hibernating hobbits being devoured by vicious wolves, was too much for Bofur to bear. It was obvious that Bilbo had been alive when it happened, and certainly old enough to remember it.

“They were everywhere,” Bilbo murmured. “Their howls were so loud that they woke the entire Shire from hibernation. You could hear the orcs from miles away. Anyone who wasn’t hibernating yet didn’t at all.” He took a breath, a shuddering one. “My parents and I were holed up for weeks in the Smial. We couldn’t leave without risking getting caught. There were some that risked it, but…” He trailed off.

The thought passed Bofur’s mind that it was like the fall of Erebor. The only differences were that Erebor was attacked by a dragon and it had fallen for many years. The Shire had fallen for a winter beneath starvation, death, and violence.

“I watched some of my neighbors be eaten from the windows,” Bilbo went on quietly. “My father boarded them up after the entire Tiny family was dragged across our lawn.” His eyes were dark. “They weren’t a tiny family.”

“Do ye always remember it before ye go to sleep?” Bofur asked, his voice a hush.

Bilbo nodded. He said nothing.

Bofur glanced at his carving. “Ye’re safe in here with us, Bilbo,” he said. “Nothin’s gettin’ passed us, especially not some wolves.”

“That’s why I felt safe this year.”

The chocolate eyes looked at the hobbit. “What?”

“I felt safe enough to hibernate this year,” Bilbo repeated. His eyes were on the fire. “Fell Winter didn’t even cross my mind before I started settling in. I haven’t stopped thinking about it for years, but this year… This year I forgot all about it.”

Bofur felt like he knew that answer, but… “How come?”

Bilbo looked at him. His face was flush from the heat of the fire, his mouth pulled into a warm smile. “Because of all of you,” the hobbit answered. “You’ve all made me feel safer than I have in years.”

Bofur stared at him for a moment. It was the truth, he could see it in Bilbo’s eyes. The dwarf stood from his chair and made the short distance towards the smaller, and with swift arms he lifted Bilbo from the cushioned chair and into his arms. He hugged the hobbit tightly, his nose tickled by the curls. He could smell fresh nuts and cake. Bilbo hadn’t made a sound. If he had, he would have started crying. He clutched Bofur’s furs, his face buried in them. The smell of wood and oil put him at peace.

“We’ll keep ye safe,” Bofur murmured, his words a promise. “Ye’re our burglar, lucky number, and dear friend. We won't let anythin' happen to ye.”

_Thank you._

There was a knock, then the sound of the door opening. Bofur turned his head to see Thorin coming into the room. He must have been done with his duties early if he was coming in for his watch. The king’s eyes widened when he saw the bed empty, though his shoulders obviously loosened when he turned to see Bofur and Bilbo by the fireplace.

“We’ll keep our burglar safe, right, Thorin?” Bofur asked loudly.

Bilbo jumped. He pulled back from Bofur’s chest and looked over. His cheeks grew hot. “Hello, Thorin.”

Thorin couldn’t help but smile at the cute expression. “Of course,” he said, answering the dwarf. "Master..." He shook his head. "Pardon. _Bilbo_ will always be safe here.

Bofur grinned cheekily. Bilbo glared at him, but the yawn made it impossible to make it serious.

\- - - - -

The winter passed peacefully. The snow slowly melted away on the mountain, rivers of slush and water pouring from the roofs and stones. Sun began peeking through the clouds again, the birds could be heard tweeting and the deer could be seen eating the grass. The wagons started coming in record times. Dale and Erebor began to thrive again.

Bilbo got to see everyone at his bedside at least once, some more than others. Thorin, being the king, couldn’t be there as much, but he and everyone else carved out time in their schedules for their hobbit. He would wake up to some water, food, and pleasant chitchat before falling back asleep. He didn’t remember having any nightmares after his conversation with Bofur about Fell Winter, but he did remember songs in Khuzdul being in his dreams.

The day his hibernation was officially over, Bilbo had woken up and proudly proclaimed to Ori that he was starving.

Fili and Kili had tackled him with more force than they had the first time. It was a good thing Bilbo had set his plate on the table, or else it would have been food for floor.

“Boys,” Bilbo wheezed beneath their weights. “Air.”

They backed off him. At least, Fili did, because Kili simply lifted him into the air. “You’re really light!” he said. “You’re like a pillow.”

Bilbo reached and gave the young dwarf a swat across the head. “Put me down! Didn’t you learn any manners while I was asleep?”

Kili set him down on his feet. “Nope.”

Oin hobbled into the dining room, Ori at his side. The scribe had fetched him after escorting Bilbo to the dining room. “Daily checkup, Mister Baggins!” he decreed.

Bilbo groaned. “Oin, may I please eat my food first? I’m absolutely famished.”

The old dwarf looked at Ori, who parroted Bilbo’s statement. Oin then snorted. “That’s the checkup.”

“And after that, Thorin wants to see you,” Ori chimed in.

Bilbo blinked owlishly. “Alright.”

The rest of the company had showed up quickly after that. Bilbo’s meal was slowly eaten; he couldn’t barely get a few bites of it before someone else came in started talking to him. He got claps on the backs and his head patted, everyone’s beginning sentence either being “Welcome back” or “You’re a cheeky bastard for not telling us before the damn wizard.”

“Everyone, calm down!” Bilbo hollered after Bombur had scooped him up into a hug. “You’re all acting like I was gone for centuries!”

“It has been centuries!” Kili called back across the table. “Uncle’s retired, Fili ran off with an orc lady, and I’m king.”

“Mahal, that’s a world I don’t think I could live in,” Nori said from beside Dori.

“I second that,” Dori said.

Kili stuck out his tongue. Nori threw a bread roll at his head.

Bifur scuffled up beside Bombur and began talking excitedly. He reached and grabbed Bilbo’s hand, patting firmly. Bilbo stared at him in confusion. It seemed life Bifur forgot that he spoke in a different language sometimes.

“He’s askin’ if ye liked our carvin’ of Myrtle,” Bofur said, strolling towards the table. He snatched drumstick from Gloin’s plate, earning an angry bark, and twirled it. “The finale project, that is. Ye never really were coherent enough to give us an answer.”

The Myrtle carving had been finished sometime after the conversation about Fell Winter. Bilbo had woken up to see a half-sized wooden carving of the pony in the corner of his room. She had been standing tall and proud, every inch of her smooth and correct. The boys had been there during that time and pointed it out to him, saying that Bifur and Bofur had worked on it together. Bombur had provided their snacks.

“I love it. You two did a fantastic job,” Bilbo said, smiling. He looked at Bombur. “You obviously did well on keeping them fed.”

Bombur chuckled merrily. “My specialty.”

When everyone finally did leave Bilbo alone enough for him to properly eat, he watched them. There was never a quiet moment, everyone either yelling or laughing, and some food went past Bilbo’s face every now and then. Everyone was glowing with happiness, their faces unchanged from the winter months.

Even as they clanged their weapons together and threatened each other with bodily harm, Bilbo had never felt better.

After his breakfast, late lunch to be precise, he managed to escape everyone to find Thorin. Dwalin hadn’t been at the table, so that must have meant that he was with Thorin. He was the king’s main bodyguard, after all.

As Bilbo padded through the halls, he wondered what Thorin could be wanting him for. It must have been something important, since he hadn’t slipped away from his duties or told Ori otherwise. Bilbo tried to think of what it was, but there wasn’t anything special enough that crossed his mind.

He turned the corner and bumped right into Dwalin’s chest.

The bulky dwarf let out an amused huff at Bilbo’s surprised yelp. “I was just coming to get you,” he said. “Thorin’s down the hall.”

“Thank you, Dwalin,” Bilbo said. “Sorry about bumping into you.”

“I didn’t even feel it,” Dwalin chuckled. He began to walk past the hobbit, then settled a strong hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Good afternoon, Bilbo.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile widely. “Good afternoon, Dwalin.”

Thorin was at the end of the hall just as Dwalin had said. His outfit was certainly much lighter now that winter was over, though he was still dressed in furs. His crown was missing from his head, and his outfit was strangely casual. It looked like he had slipped from his royal duties after all.

“Hello, Bilbo,” Thorin greeted. His deep blue eyes were warm. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a new hobbit,” Bilbo responded. He looked over Thorin again. “Are you playing hooky from your duties?”

“Maybe,” the king said slowly, looking away.

“I’m beginning to believe that little joke about Kili being king was right,” Bilbo sniffed. At Thorin’s look, he said, “Kili said that you had retired, Fili had run off with an orc lady, and he was king.”

Thorin looked a little pale. “I think Mahal would have to say something about that.”

“Hopefully everyone would!” The hobbit hopped around Thorin. “Now, what did you need me for? You weren’t at lunch and I can’t imagine that you’d go without it for any longer than you usually do unless there’s something very important.”

The dwarf nodded. “It’s extremely important.”

The world was so much different now that the snow was melting. Bilbo couldn’t keep his head straight as he watched the greenery go by. Thorin was taking him a little higher onto the mountain. “A surprise,” the king had said. It was a good thing Bilbo was dressed in the furs he was given, because it was still horribly cold. It was still very beautiful, though, Bilbo wouldn’t lie.

They were at a small ridge when Thorin suddenly said, “Wait.”

Bilbo froze, his hand unconsciously going to where Sting would usually be. “What? What’s wrong?”

Thorin looked at him. “Cover your eyes.”

Bilbo gaped, looking almost offended. “Really? You got me ready for battle with your suddenness.”

The smile Thorin gave was too soft to be actually him. “Sorry.”

The hobbit sighed and covered his eyes with both hands. “Alright, they’re covered.”

Thorin’s hand settled on the small back. “No peeking.”

“I wasn’t a master at hide-and-seek as a child for cheating, Thorin,” Bilbo said confidently.

“What else are you a master of?”

“Knowing when to call you an idiot.”

Thorin’s laugh was low and rumbling. Bilbo told himself the heat in his cheeks was from the cold.

They walked for another minute. They stopped again after the ground became flat.

“Alright. You can look now.”

Bilbo’s hands fell away from his eyes. He gasped. Thorin stiffened.

A little building was nestled against the mountainside. A greenhouse, Bilbo realized from the polished glass that made up the side facing outwards and the roof. Its base was made of a dark stone, the door made of a polished wood that Bilbo couldn’t remember. A wagon filled with bags of soil, pots, and fertilizer sat near the greenhouse.

“Thorin…” Bilbo didn’t know what to say.

“Look inside,” Thorin said. He sounded…nervous, almost. Worried.

The inside was gorgeous. Three wooden beams streaked beneath the ceiling, lined with empty pots waiting to be filled. The floor was made of cobblestone, twelve separated rectangles of bedding forcing it to round and settle. Three large shelves sat in the back left, wall planters dotting the parallel side. A look to the left showed Bilbo more supplies, the right furnished with another shelf of gardening tools. There was obviously more to be done, but it looked perfect.

It _was_ perfect.

“We wanted to give you your own space. Your own little Shire,” Thorin told Bilbo, his eyes attentive on the gaping hobbit.

Bilbo swallowed. “How… How long did this take you?” His voice was a bit choked.

“The whole season to get it where it is now,” the dwarf responded. “We all had a hand in building it.”

Bilbo gave in a near horrified look. “The whole season? You mean you and the rest of the company were out here when it was freezing cold building this?”

Thorin nodded. He looked at the soil beds. “We weren’t sure if you wanted vegetables in the front or back, so we waited. We didn’t know what flowers you wanted either, though some of the company mentioned some plants you mentioned over the journey. We have seeds coming, but we weren’t sure what else you’d want.”

Bilbo’s eyes moved slowly across the room. “You and everyone… You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” the raven-head said. He cleared his throat. “The mountain may be your home now, but there’s only so much it can naturally give. We’re happy because it’s all we’ve known, but it’s such a big change for you. You deserved a piece of home.”

“I…” Bilbo took in a shuddering breath. His eyes were wet, the hazel irises bright. “I don’t know what to say.” He turned to Thorin. “Thorin, this is magnificent. And the company helped?”

Thorin nodded. His eyes held relief, the sparkling blues laced with warmth. “Bofur told me about Fell Winter,” he said. “He told me that you feel safe here, safe with us. We were working on this before, but after that…” His face turned serious. “You’ve done more than enough for us. You even left behind your hobbit hole just so you could stay here. There isn’t enough that we can give back in return for everything you’ve sacrificed, but we wanted to give something you missed back to you.”

Bilbo didn’t know he was crying until he couldn’t see clearly anymore. He brought up a hand and wiped his eyes, sniffling. “You blasted dwarves,” he choked softly. “You always find a way to make me a mess.”

Thorin smiled hopefully. “So, you like it?”

“Of course I do!” the smaller practically shrieked. “Were you worried that I wouldn’t? Any gift I’d receive from any of you would send me across Middle Earth and back.” He sniffed. He searched his pocket for his handkerchief. “And your journeys.”

Thorin nodded, his face colored with bliss. “Good.” A small pause. “Would you like to get started? I can help you begin with the small things.”

Bilbo finally found the blasted piece of fabric. He fished it from his pocket and dabbed his eyes. “That would be nice. You can–.” He stopped, his eyes wide. “Thorin,” he began. “Are you trying to sneak me into a date? Because it sounds like you’re trying to stall going to the dining hall.”

The king’s cheeks grew hot. He looked momentarily panicked. “No,” he said quickly. Then, “…Maybe.”

Bilbo’s cheeks grew just as hot again. “Oh.” He blinked. “Well, you’re doing it right, and I’ll certainly accept.”

Thorin’s eyes widened like an owl’s. Then a large smile grew on his face. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

A soft rumbling interrupted them. Bilbo looked down at Thorin’s stomach. He gasped. “Thorin, you haven’t eaten lunch!”

“It’s alright. It’s just one meal,” Thorin told him, that smile still on his face.

“It is not just one meal!” Bilbo squawked. He reached and snatched the king’s hand. “If you’re going to date a hobbit, you better realize how important food is! We’re eating, then we’re starting the garden, and then we’ll do whatever you dwarves do when you’re in love. Understand?”

Thorin nodded. “If I’m going to court a hobbit, then I should know everything about them.” The blue eyes glanced at the ground. “So, I’ve noticed something you do during your hibernation that you don’t do normally.”

“What?” Bilbo looked down.

He was still wearing his socks.

“You didn’t say anything?!”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Thorin!”

“We’re still alright for our date, yes?”

“I would say no, but you showed me this beautiful greenhouse and now I can’t. You planned for this!”

“…Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slipped in that Bagginshield like Mario Kart banana peels.
> 
> Also spoilers for any future hobbit fics: Bofur's my favorite.


End file.
